Have Faith
by Lif61
Summary: Dean has sworn his faith to the angels and is willing to do what it takes to stop the Apocalypse before it starts. However, believing he will still be insubordinate, the angels want Dean to prove his faith in another way, and Castiel is the angel assigned to oversee this task. (Takes place at the end of season 4.)


**A/N: I decided to be _that_ person and write smut for my 69th Supernatural fanfiction. And it's actually consensual. Someone give me an award.**

* * *

Dean hadn't known what he'd been signing up for when he'd given himself over to the angels of God. He'd been terrified in that moment, maybe even a little terrified of Castiel as he stood near him, staring with his impossibly blue eyes. But Dean had been desperate, and he needed Sam back, not the monster that he was convinced on turning into. Sammy was going to start the Apocalypse, and the angels had said Dean was the one who could stop it. He wanted to stop it before it even started. So he'd agreed to follow all their orders.

But now he wasn't so sure about that.

Without a word, only tense silence between them, Castiel had taken Dean to a room of gold and white. The best way to describe it was that it seemed heavenly - expensive paintings, expensive furniture, and it was much more classy than what he was used to. It made him instantly uncomfortable, and he looked around, trying to get his bearings. There was a bed in there, and he raised his eyebrows at it.

"What, God wants me to take a nap?" he scoffed. "Thanks, but I'll sleep when I'm dead."

Castiel let out a small huff through his nose, and he had the angel figured out enough to know that was the equivalent of an eye roll coming from him. Cas put a hand on his shoulder, and shoved him down onto the bed. Since he was nervous about all this, Dean reacted how he always did when he was nervous and afraid. He smirked, and joked, "Wow, Cas, I might just get a boner from you taking charge like that."

"Wait here," the angel ordered in his gruff voice, and then he was gone.

Dean was annoyed with his words. As if he even had a choice. In observing the room he noticed there was a distinct lack of a door. There weren't windows or vents or _anything_ anyone could possibly use to get in or out. He was stuck there. Some part of him thought he should stay on the bed since Castiel had put him there, and really, his mind was playing over a few interesting scenarios involving the angel, but he thought he'd probably just been watching too much porn recently. If Sam were here and could read his thoughts, Dean knew what he'd have say about that.

There was a sudden pang in his chest at the thought of his brother. Oh god, he was with that demon bitch. Dean didn't even know what they were doing, didn't really want to know. Probably fucking while he drank her blood. He didn't like the idea of that. Sure, he was fine with Sammy getting laid, he was fine with him being happy. But he wasn't fine with him filling himself up with something evil that was worse than drugs, wasn't fine with him being with a _demon_ who had first slept with Sam under extremely questionable circumstances. Sam hadn't brought it up again once he'd told Dean about it, but it'd stayed in Dean's mind even though he didn't want it to. It hurt knowing what his brother had been through when he was in Hell, unable to keep him safe. And now he saw this mess as a result of that. He tried to put this on Sam, he really did. He was a monster now, wasn't he? How could that _thing_ that was walking around, ready to start the Apocalypse whether he knew what he was doing or not, be his brother? But how had it even happened in the first place? He knew, but he didn't know. Had Ruby forced him to drink her blood? Maybe it didn't matter. Demon blood had been forcibly given to him when he was six months old. Maybe this hell on earth was always going to happen.

It all hurt to think about. He just wanted Sam back. He wanted him to be okay.

Dean paced as he had all these thoughts, and seconds dragged on into minutes, which seemed to drag on into half an hour. He'd knocked over a statue while waiting out of sheer boredom, needing something to do so he wouldn't go crazy.

Castiel finally showed again, and this time Zachariah was with him. Dean forced himself to not take a step back upon seeing the angel in the older vessel.

"Dean, you look well," Zachariah greeted.

"Cut the crap," he responded. "What do you need me to do?"

Zachariah pressed his already thin lips into a tight line so that they almost seemed to disappear. "This is a delicate situation, Dean. While Castiel did broadcast to the other angels the swearing of yourself over to us, we're still, uh, let's say… _iffy_ about your faith. In his time with you Castiel has learned that you'd do anything for your brother, and we think that he's your goal here instead of us."

"And? I want to save Sam, you wanna stop the weasel from going pop. Either way, we'd get the same result. So tell me what I need to know, and get me out of here."

"We can't do that, I'm afraid."

"Cas?" Dean questioned, turning to his friend. Or he thought Cas was his friend. But now he was just looking at him intently, as if he was trying to think of how to get Dean to cooperate.

It then hit him how helpless he was at the moment. Two angels were here, and he was just him. Just human. It didn't matter if he was the Righteous Man. Sure, they needed him. But how badly did they need him? Did they need him whole? Would they take him apart only to put him back together again, an angelic twist on the horrors down below?

"For one," Zachariah went on, "too many demons. We can't lose you. You're too important. And two, there's still work that has to be done."

"Okay…"

A wintry smile was directed his way, and then the angel said, "I'll let Castiel handle it. After all, you two are much closer. Maybe he can make you cooperate. See you in a bit, Dean!"

With a fluttering of his wings he was gone, and now it was just Dean and Castiel. Cas was still looking at him, and Dean couldn't figure out what was going on in his head. The angel started walking over to him and Dean didn't just hold his ground; he took a step forward.

"What's going on?" he hissed.

"On the bed," he ordered.

"What? No, not until I get some answers."

"You need to prove your faith to us, and what I'm about to tell you is how you do it."

"No."

Dean didn't care what they wanted. He wanted to be let out of this stupid room, he wanted to go to Sam before he did something he couldn't come back from, and he most certainly didn't want a bunch of angels ordering him around. He didn't care that Castiel was one of those angels. Okay, maybe he did. Castiel was… attractive, to say the least. _Really_ attractive. His voice often sent shivers down Dean's spine, and his piercing eyes made him feel like he was looking at all of him, and sometimes he seemed to enjoy what he saw.

He mentally smacked himself. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about Castiel in that way.

But god, the angel was so close to him, and Dean figured he could just kiss him if he really wanted to. He wondered if Castiel would like that. Dean hoped he would.

"Dean, I won't tell you again," he intoned. Then his hard gaze softened, big eyes becoming pleading, and it just about made Dean melt. "Please. I don't want this to be unpleasant for you."

Dean's gaze had drifted to his lips as he'd spoken, and Dean swallowed roughly, really wanting those lips against his.

"Dean."

"Hmm? Wh-what?" he asked, realizing that Castiel was expecting something of him. His head had gone to a warm place where the very lips he was staring at were against his skin. Sometimes he found it difficult to focus when around the angel, but now he was finding it really difficult. Maybe it was everything he'd been through recently, maybe it was the sense of impending doom sitting in his gut, maybe it was how badly he wanted to feel something good just _once_ in his awful life.

"Please, on the bed," he pleaded.

This time he didn't question him and did as he said. Dean couldn't joke now, was too focused on this moment, on what was going to happen. He was confused, but he knew Castiel would get to explaining everything.

"Like this?" he asked, just sitting on the edge, body tense.

"Maybe you should lie down. I need you to relax."

Dean nodded, and took in a deep breath. Then he scooted up the bed, the white fleece blanket draped over it soft and fuzzy against the palms of his hands. As he laid down, head back against the pillows that seemed to support him perfectly, he realized the bed was very comfortable as well. He wondered how they'd gotten it to just his liking.

"Now what?" he asked.

Castiel went over to the bed, and sat down on it, body tilted so that he was facing Dean. He liked having him this close, but his stomach was wound tight with anxiety over what he was going to be asked to do.

"I should explain further before asking anything else of you. And, Dean…"

"Yeah?"

"No jokes."

He cracked a smile. "What? Me? Never."

Castiel just raised one eyebrow at him, and Dean inhaled sharply, arousal beginning to trickle through him from that look. He tried to think of something gross, tried to think of the blown up remains of the ghouls' heads that he'd taken care of a few weeks back. But that was the past, this was _now_ , and Cas was _here_ , just inches away, that same damn expression on his face. As if sensing his discomfort, Castiel laid a hand on his shoulder, and Dean looked down at it, checking that, yes, Castiel was really touching him. They'd made physical contact many times before, but hell, Dean was a mess right now, and that touch meant everything to him. Castiel was with him, he understood all the different agonies in his heart, and though he was following orders, he would do his best to help him.

Castiel squeezed his shoulder, a tentative smile in his eyes, and then he let his hand slide away. Dean missed the warmth of his touch.

"Since the beginning of religion," Castiel began, "humans have shown their faith in different ways. One way is through offering yourself up to a deity or a being of power."

"Like a sacrifice?"

Dean wanted to half-heartedly add in a dark joke about God wanting him to bleed, but he knew it wasn't appropriate at the moment. His stuttering heart didn't want the words to leave his lips, either.

"In a way. This… giving of yourself, has to be done a certain way, or else it won't work."

"So what do I have to do? Come on, the suspense is killing me."

"Dean, I'm trying to make this easy for you," Castiel explained.

"Well, to me it seems like you're just being a tease. Is that your thing, Cas? You like teasing people?"

Something flashed in Castiel's eyes and then he set his jaw. Dean had gotten to him, and now whatever his friend had to say was going to come out blunt. He figured that was okay. He was used to Castiel being like that.

Their gazes locked and they stayed like that for a long time, the tension mounting.

It broke when Castiel spoke, and Dean actually thought he was joking: "You have to masturbate and imagine you're giving yourself to God."

Dean started laughing, and he rolled over onto his side, away from Castiel. Once he started laughing he couldn't stop.

The idea of that was so ridiculous. And with Castiel there? Sure, he'd touched himself while thinking about him, but having him _there_? That stuff was supposed to be private! And picturing God? The God in his head wasn't his type. Maybe he could just fake it, but he was too busy laughing to think about how he was going to do that.

In an instant, Castiel was grabbing him, rolling him down onto his back. His face was now mere inches from his, and Dean gasped, his breath getting stuck in his throat.

"This is serious, Dean. As the Righteous Man you _have_ to prove your faith to us, or else this could all fail."

"I-I bet you say that to all the ladies," he forced out, words, _air_ , not wanting to come to him. His lips only wanted to move in the way they did when someone else was pressed against him.

Castiel said nothing in return, just stared at him, his gaze determined, pleading. There was something else in there, something Dean had seen in many people's eyes over the years, but it was foreign in Cas' eyes. Arousal.

"Okay," he agreed. "Okay, I'll do it."

"Good."

And then Castiel let go of him, and was getting off the bed. He settled himself against the wall across from him, arms crossed, looking so grave. It was actually a bit of a turn off. He didn't want this to be all business. That wouldn't be any fun. But maybe that's all this was to Cas, and the arousal Dean had thought he'd seen wasn't actually that.

His hands shaking slightly, he undid the button and zipper on his jeans.

 _Just pretend he's not even there,_ he told himself. _You're just in your motel room, Sammy's out doing research. You talked to a hot girl about the case, and you have a few ideas about how she might thank you. That's it. That's all. Nope. No angels, no looming Apocalypse. Cas_ definitely _isn't staring at you as you pull your pants down._

But he _was_ staring, and Dean wanted him to stare. He was just afraid to admit it.

"You gonna turn around?" he asked, voice barely coming out.

"I have to watch."

"Fine. One masturbation porno coming up."

"Dean," Castiel reprimanded. He didn't need to say anything else. He knew he didn't appreciate his jokes about this.

"I'm nervous!" he shot back.

"Just do what you usually do."

Dean sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, the other resting against his lower abdomen, fingertips just above the waistband of his boxers.

"I'd love to," he explained intently, "but _usually_ I'm alone. You know, privacy?"

Castiel tilted his head, squinting at him, seeming confused as to what was different about this.

"Fine, fine," Dean groaned.

He figured he'd stalled long enough. He had to do it so he was just going to do it. Maybe he could push aside how weird this all was for now and deal with it later. Yeah, he'd just do that.

Though, he was still nervous, so when he stuck his hand down the front of his boxers he didn't pull himself free like he usually would. It made things more difficult, but he wasn't sure he wanted Castiel looking at him. Well, he _did_. Just, not for this. He wanted Castiel to watch him because he wanted to, not because he was being ordered to.

And there went his damn thoughts killing the mood again. Or maybe there wasn't even a _mood_. He couldn't tell if Castiel felt the same way about him that he did about him.

 _Damn it, just stop thinking about him._

His hand was warm against his skin, but given the nerves coiling up his gut and the tension that gave him goosebumps, it wasn't enough. He knew it wasn't going to be. So Dean closed his eyes and tried imagining something sexy, anything.

There was one fantasy he had, mixed in with some memories. There was a dark-skinned girl on top of him in it, her long, straight hair tickling his chest and neck as she leaned over him. And she had a Zorro mask on. He wasn't sure why, but he liked it. Dean tended to not question his fantasies and desires anymore. They made him happy. She was moaning as she rode him, and pleasure jumped through Dean at the idea that she was enjoying his cock. The image changed, and she was behind him, spanking him as he lay on his stomach. Changed again, and she was digging her nails into his thighs, nearly drawing blood as she sucked him.

Dean felt self conscious as his breaths quickened, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. Heat flooded his cheeks, and desire began to thicken his cock. His pants were growing much too tight, uncomfortably so, so he gave in and pulled his cock free, tugging at himself with vigor just so he could get this whole thing over with.

A sound made him open his eyes. Castiel was closer to him now, had likely flown there since he'd heard a fluttering and not the sharp tap of footsteps. Dean instantly stilled, looking at him with big eyes.

When he spoke his voice was rough with arousal, "What are you doing?"

"You're doing it wrong."

Anger and disbelief sparked in Dean, and he retorted, "How the hell am I doing it wrong? I think I know how to get myself off. Would you just… let me get back to it?"

Castiel sighed, and leaned against the wall closer to the bed.

"Alright. But do it correctly this time."

Dean growled at him, and he thought maybe the angel smiled. Or maybe he'd imagined it. It was difficult to say since he now looked as stoic as ever. Dean was actually surprised by Castiel's stern expression. Over the past few months he'd been getting more expressive around him, had seemed to be learning how to get in touch with his emotions as humans did. Something about how he looked now seemed off, and Dean couldn't figure out why.

He shook the thoughts away, and was a little surprised his nerves and concentration hadn't made him soften, not even a bit. Then again, Cas was _hot_. Still, it felt inappropriate thinking about him for this while he was right in front of him.

So Dean closed his eyes, and began stroking himself, a little slower this time. He wasn't quite sure what Castiel meant by saying he'd been doing it wrong before, so maybe changing it up would fix the problem. He tried to soak up the pleasure he got from his own touch as he ran his hand up and down every inch of his hardened length. He tried to not think about the eyes he felt on him, making him hot. Instead he tried to come up with other images, and ideas, and memories. He was tied to a chair, blindfolded, but only desire ran through his blood. A flogger was being dragged against his swollen cock, making him twitch with desire. He imagined the painful and arousing sting of it meeting his bare skin, and Dean felt more pressure in his pelvis as he hardened even more.

And then in his mind there were lips against his, lips against his body, and they were lips he was very familiar with now. The blindfold was off and blue eyes heated with lust looked back at him.

Feeling guilty, hell, feeling predatory, for suddenly thinking of Castiel like this, Dean tried turning him into a different man in his head. There was this one porn star he found particularly attractive, but couldn't remember his name. He supposed he didn't matter. He was big, with a tight, toned body, dark hair, bright eyes, exactly Dean's type. He imagined now that he was fucking Dean, pressing him down to the bed with his hands against his back.

"Dean."

The rough voice of his friend made him have to grit his teeth against a moan, and he pumped himself a little harder, now having a hard time drawing himself away from the fiery pleasure he was feeling in between his legs. It swelled upwards into his stomach, making him pleasantly light-headed.

"Dean."

"Mm?"

"You're still doing it wrong."

He opened his eyes at that, and found that Castiel had drawn closer, only professionalism in his gaze. The longer they held eye contact, Dean's hand still once more, he thought he saw something under that professionalism. A heat, desire, pleasure.

He ignored that, and asked, frustrated, "You want to try it?"

He had meant that to say that doing this correctly was apparently difficult, and that Castiel probably couldn't do it. But his friend misunderstood, and Dean's hand got knocked aside and was replaced with Castiel's even larger one.

Dean threw his head back and moaned in surprise, hips arching up into his hand.

"Fuck, Cas! Th-that's not… not what I - _mm-hm-hm!_ \- meant!"

"Am I still allowed to do this?"

"Oh god, yes. Please."

Dean didn't stop to think about what was happening, about how events were unfolding. Castiel was _touching_ him. His hands were softer than Dean's - apparently angel hands didn't get calloused from holding weapons, his fingers longer, palms wider. He was being gentle with him, almost painfully so, and Dean's eager cock was leaking precum.

All he could think about was Castiel now, and there wasn't any further mention of him messing this up. Something about the change in this situation must've been right, and it certainly felt right to Dean.

Castiel's thumb brushed against his frenulum, making Dean squeeze his eyes shut, a growl coming up from his throat. Noticing his reactions, Castiel kept up with it, sending bliss sparking through him. His other hand was against his pelvis now, and making its way up his torso underneath his shirt. God, Dean loved his hands. He loved that he was touching him. And he wanted so much more from Castiel. He imagined taking his clothes off for him, showing him his body, following every order he said to him. He wanted this to become more, wanted to give himself to the angel.

"You don't… don't have to be so gentle," Dean got out before taking in a shuddering breath.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't."

Castiel's grip tightened, and it still wasn't quite right, so Dean brought his hand over his, held onto him hard, making Cas' fingers curl forcefully around him, and then he was moving his hand up and down him at a much faster pace. He let out a long breath with his voice in it, and opened his eyes to look at Castiel. His friend's eyes were big with curiosity, with something that might have been akin to adoration, and with arousal. Dean wondered if he was getting hard from this. He looked down to check just as Castiel's fingers found one of his nipples, and pinched. Pleasure twanged through his torso, down into his pelvis, into his cock, and the head became wet with pearly beads of precum.

What Dean saw made his cock twitch in his strong grip. Castiel was hard, incredibly so.

The thought that someone he'd lusted after, that someone who was much more powerful than him, was aroused because of him made so much heat flush through his body that he wanted his clothes off.

Dean's hand traveled up to Castiel's wrist, and then forearm. He didn't grip him tightly now, didn't want to impede his movements. He just caressed him, and his other hand was fisting the blanket he lay on. Castiel seemed to enjoy touching his body, and Dean enjoyed letting him do it. He'd let him touch him anywhere.

The mattress was shifting, and then there was a weight on his thighs. Castiel was straddling him, and Dean could feel him leaning down over him. It must have been an exercise in core strength and balance to lean down over Dean like that while one hand was still playing with his nipple. And then his hand was flat against his chest, his lips on his jaw. Dean opened his mouth, inviting him to kiss him, to do what he wanted with his lips. Castiel didn't take the invitation, sucking on his jaw, drawing closer to his ear.

Castiel kept pumping him forcefully, filling Dean with pressure and fire, making him feel so thick and full that it began to hurt in the most wonderful of ways. His other hand was no longer under his shirt, and he held himself up by placing his forearm next to his head. And Dean could feel him rock hard against his thigh, hot through his pants. Dean moaned when Castiel gently bit his earlobe, and he thrusted himself up against him. The angel groaned, voice lower than usual, and it sent shivers through Dean. He was sweating now, eyes still closed, loving every second of this. Then Castiel's thumb was roughly running over his frenulum. It was nearly too rough and Dean enjoyed it; he'd always liked being pushed to the edges of his limits, found bliss at its purest form right before it crossed over into pain. It pulsed through him now, in time with Castiel's demanding ministrations, and he was shuddering from it.

"Am I allowed to kiss you, Dean?"

"That's what I've been wanting you to do!" he got out, words hurried so they wouldn't be interrupted by a groan.

Castiel's lips were then tentatively touching his. Dean had imagined their first kiss many times, had thought maybe it'd happen after a hunt, Castiel slamming Dean against a wall while they were both filled with the high of fighting. He hadn't thought it'd happen like this, before the Apocalypse, Dean desperate to feel something good, Castiel ordered to watch him to make sure he proved his faith correctly.

Dean didn't rush his friend, let him take this at his own pace. He wondered if this was his first kiss. It probably was, so Dean did his best to make it nice for him, even as Castiel's hand continued to pleasure his leaking cock. He moved his lips against his gently, but hoped he felt all the desire and satisfaction he was trying to pour through it. He held back his desperation, thinking maybe Castiel wasn't ready for it. But the angel surprised him. He got the hang of it fairly quickly, lips moving against his in just the right way, mouth seemingly hungry for him. Dean's caressed his neck, his face, with trembling hands, before he twined his fingers through his hair. And then Castiel's tongue was against his lips. Dean opened his mouth for him without any hesitation, and Castiel understood this time, eagerly licking into his mouth.

His hand slowed on his cock, making Dean whine into him, and then it was traveling lower to cradle his balls. There was a pleasant tickling sensation in his gut that grew as Castiel fondled him. He felt so vulnerable like this, Castiel above him, trapping him beneath powerful thighs, his hand on his balls, his tongue in his mouth. It made him tug at his hair and suck on his tongue. God, he had a nice tongue. Nice lips, too. Nice everything, it seemed. Dean wanted all of him, and he hoped that Castiel wanted the same of him.

Castiel pulled gently at his balls, and the sensation was like something inside him being tugged. It didn't hurt, didn't feel uncomfortable. Rather, it felt incredibly good. He moaned into his mouth as he did it again, and then he was running his hand back up his cock, pleasure shuddering through him from his touch. Castiel pulled his mouth away from his, and Dean opened his eyes to see him observing him with a heavy gaze, lips slightly parted.

Dean imagined those eyes on him as he lay naked before him, he imagined his focus as his hands ran over him, taking pleasure in the shape of his muscles, of his body. The porn star that Dean had thought of earlier had turned into Castiel, and he was fucking Dean desperately. But he wasn't holding him down in this fantasy. He was holding him back against his toned body, as if he wanted to feel as much of his body as he could as he took pleasure in it. Dean wanted Cas to take pleasure in it. He wanted him to use him to his utmost enjoyment and desire.

He imagined that Castiel would feel huge inside him. He already felt massive against his leg, and he imagined the blissful ache of being stretched by every thick, throbbing inch, imagined how thoroughly he would beat pleasure into his body. Castiel rolled off of Dean, and lay beside him now. His hand was no longer on his cock. Instead he was lowering his jeans and his boxers, strong hands caressing his hips. Dean pulled him in for a kiss, legs widening as he ran his hands over him. And then he was running a hand down Cas' body, desperately needing to touch his cock. The angel grabbed his wrist, and held it against him so Dean couldn't move it.

"This is about you," he breathed. "Not me."

"But-" Dean began to argue.

Castiel interrupted, voice gravelly and commanding, his breath warm against him, "Do as I say."

Dean swallowed roughly and gave a slight nod, but Castiel still didn't release him. He brought his hand up to his mouth now and kissed his knuckles. Dean watched him intently as he did so. His cock throbbed, not liking being neglected, but part of Dean loved it. Castiel's touch on his hip only made him want more, and then his fingers were trailing gently against him. His touch was so gentle that pleasure dug its way deep into him from it, and he pressed himself down against the bed unintentionally, some part of him wanting to escape it. But most of him wanted more, was screaming for it, even as it felt like too much to handle.

"Is this okay?" Castiel asked.

"Y-yes," Dean moaned. "Oh, fuck yes."

That gentle touch was making its way up his torso now, and Dean was letting out shuddering cries, not sure how he could be feeling this good. He felt like he was on fire from this, his nerves alight and screaming with ecstasy, and it traveled deep into him. Dean's cock wept more precum, and Castiel growled against him, his mouth now enjoying his neck. He had his head craned back, muscles drawn taut, and he was desperately reaching out for Cas. He still firmly held onto his wrist, but Dean managed to grab some of his shirt and suit jacket, and he held on tightly. His body was turning towards him now, his other hand carding through his soft, dark hair.

Dean wanted to question how he knew how to pleasure him like this, but it wasn't important at the moment. One of Castiel's legs went over and in between his, drawing it against his body, which made Dean's legs open wider. Mental pleasure took hold of him from the fact that he felt much more vulnerable now.

The agonizingly blissful touch went on for minutes, Castiel exploring his mouth with his own every once in awhile, and then he was caressing his cock. He wanted more, wanted him to wrap his fingers around him and tug and pump till he couldn't take it any longer. And soon, Castiel was doing just that. Dean's hips canted upwards, even as part of him was trying to writhe away, unable to take how good this felt. There was fire in his cock, in his balls, deep in his stomach and the base of his spine.

"Fuck… Cas!" he cried out. "Feels so good…"

And then pleasure was taking him, owning him, his cock alive with it as pressure pressed and released, pressed and released just beneath his balls, and sensation was jolting up from his curling toes. It pushed through him, and then faded, before doing so once more, pulsing. And Castiel kept pumping him through it, even as Dean made a mess of the both of them. His mouth was against his ear, and he was fervently murmuring praise, telling him he'd done well, that he was pleased with him. It was so hot Dean could barely stand it. And in his mind he and Cas were twined together, holding and grinding against one another, till they found that sweet spot, Cas deep inside him. Images flashed through his head, filled with heat and skin and the movement of bodies, and the relieving, satisfying pressure of orgasm and the flood of pleasure it was accompanied with. And in all of them there was Cas, taking his body, loving his body, Dean giving himself to him.

It lasted maybe ten seconds, and then it was over. Castiel released Dean's wrist, yet his other hand was still busy, thumb stroking over his wet and over-sensitized slit. Dean enjoyed it, moaning and shivering. Then Castiel was touching his free hand to Dean's forehead. He was cleaned from his touch, and he realized that Castiel was clean as well. If it had been Castiel's cum on him he wouldn't have wanted him to clean him off.

The angel was still hard against his thigh, and even as Dean panted, trying to catch his breath as his body relaxed, he reached down for him again. Castiel once more took hold of his wrist.

"No, Dean. You did what you had to. You've done well."

He met Castiel's gaze, daring to ask, "Did you just do that because you had to or because you wanted to?"

"Because I wanted to," he answered, eyes sincere. "I've felt longing and affection for you for quite some time, Dean." He looked like he wanted to say more, but then his gaze drew to Dean's lips. He leaned in for a gentle kiss, one that Dean returned.

When he pulled away he allowed himself to smile, not letting any impending doom or pain or worry ruin these few moments.

"What were you thinking about, Dean?"

"What?"

"After I began touching you, your intent changed. You proved your faith. I felt it coursing through you."

Heat rose to Dean's cheeks, but he answered anyway, "I was thinking about you, Cas."

"Ah," he simply responded, caressing Dean's face.

"What? That's it? No explanation?"

"Thinking about God wasn't what you needed for this. In those moments you gave yourself over to me, a powerful servant of God."

Dean blushed even more that Castiel had been able to discover the intention behind the thoughts in his head. He noticed his reddened cheeks and soothed, "It's alright, Dean. You did what you were supposed to."

"But now you know."

Castiel's gaze was serious as he told him, "And I'm going to take advantage of that information." His expression turned sheepish as he went on, "Though, I'll admit, I don't quite grasp all the mechanics of sexual intercourse."

Dean grinned. "Don't worry. I'll teach you."

They kissed again, holding each other, and though it was short, Dean let himself enjoy it. For now, a part of him was happy and satisfied, actually looking forward to something in the future. Castiel was a light to him amongst all the dark that enshrouded his life, and for now, he was going to stay in that light. The Apocalypse might come, and he still had to save his brother, and each second brought him closer to those moments. But not each second had to be agony. With Castiel, he didn't let it be. He would save his brother, save the world, and they'd both come out of it together. He had faith.


End file.
